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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23455231">Raising Geralt</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookslutskye/pseuds/bookslutskye'>bookslutskye</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Accidental Baby Acquisition, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Family Issues, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Self-Esteem Issues, Getting Together, Pre-Slash, Single Dad Geralt, for now, geralt is pavetta's cousin, more like Unexpected but that's not a tag so, sometimes a family is two dads a mom and a very opinionated toddler, yall ever seen that movie raising helen, yeah kinda like that</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 14:55:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,083</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23455231</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookslutskye/pseuds/bookslutskye</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s a lot of legal jargon that Geralt doesn’t care for and Calanthe urges the lawyer to skip over, but all in all, Pavetta and Duny didn’t own much. They lived with Calanthe so they had no property. Duny had a vehicle that he was apparently giving to Geralt (he just hoped it wasn’t a sports car. If he was doing to drive something other than Roach, it had better be practical). They had a fair amount of liquid assets but nothing too crazy since Duny was only a local detective. The one thing they had that was of true value was their daughter, Ciri. </p><p>Geralt had heard when she was born. Duny had texted him a picture about a day after and he couldn’t even lie to himself that it hadn't made him melt a little. Every once and a while since he would get a photo of her as she grew, and they were the only photos he kept, besides a few of Jasker and Yennefer. He supposed the little tyke would be raised by her grandmother now that she had no parents to speak of.</p><p>And then the lawyer says Geralt’s name, and suddenly nothing is as it was.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon &amp; Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon &amp; Jaskier | Dandelion, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon &amp; Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt of Rivia &amp; Pavetta, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia &amp; Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion &amp; Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>79</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>303</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Last Will and Testimony of Pavetta Riannon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is very much based on the tv show but with a more book/game relationship between Jaskier Geralt and Yennefer. Aka no big dramatic breakups and Geralt admits to being friends.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Geralt was not what you called a family man. </p><p>He was gruff, didn’t like people, and lived mostly alone in a two-bedroom house in the middle of Nowhere, Montana. His job consisted of 10 times more animals than humans and he only ever spoke as much as was necessary. He was generally hated by most everyone he meets, which he thought was a little much but fair enough.</p><p>He wasn’t the kind of person most would leave their infant daughter to. </p><p>But then Pavetta and Duny had never been like most people. </p><p>The last time he had seen Calanthe had been their wedding, nearly two years ago, and while he certainly respected her strength and ability to not give a shit, her morals left something to be desired. Trying to frame your daughter’s fiancé is generally frowned upon, so of course, it turned into a double wedding. </p><p>Calanthe didn’t like him, and he didn’t care much for her either, but Pavetta was always trying to involve him in family stuff and was kind enough to invite Geralt to the wedding. And Duny had obviously appreciated his testimony. They were good people, a cute couple, the only family he cared to claim. They were also dead. </p><p>Which is the reason Geralt is at Calanthe’s house in Boston. There had been a voicemail (Geralt had been there to hear it ring but he never picks up) about something something will reading something something. He didn’t know <em>why </em>he had to be present when he had barely known the late couple but Eist had been insistent that every family member be there. </p><p>So Geralt is sitting, uncomfortable but present, in Calanthe’s office, far away from his comfortable shack, with Calanthe and the family lawyer.</p><p>Looking at Calanthe, Geralt does feel sympathy for her. As crazy over-protective as she can get, she loved her daughter more than anything and it’s plain as day that this loss has hit her hard. Her hair is more of a mess than Geralt’s, which is saying something, and she has deep shadows under eyes. Her clothes are fresh, at least, and she’s certainly lucid enough to be actively snide towards Geralt’s presence. </p><p>There’s a lot of legal jargon that Geralt doesn’t care for and Calanthe urges the lawyer to skip over, but all in all, Pavetta and Duny didn’t own much. They lived with Calanthe so they had no property. Duny had a vehicle that he was apparently giving to Geralt (he just hoped it wasn’t a sports car. If he was doing to drive something other than Roach, it had better be practical). They had a fair amount of liquid assets but nothing too crazy since Duny was only a local detective. The one thing they had that was of true value, was their daughter, Ciri. </p><p>Geralt had heard when she was born, though he never met her. Duny had texted him a picture about a day after and he couldn’t even lie to himself that it hadn’t made him melt a little. Every once in a while since, he would get a photo of her as she grew, and they were the only photos he kept, besides a few of Jaskier and Yennefer. He supposed the little tyke would be raised by her grandmother now that she had no parents to speak of.</p><p>And then the lawyer says Geralt’s name, and suddenly nothing is as it was.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>There is a letter for each of them, both Geralt and Calanthe, explaining Pavetta’s decision. Geralt has his stuffed, unread, in his pocket before Calanthe can even begin to demand to read it. Knowing Pavetta, she probably didn’t write something Calanthe would find appeasing. They were a match made in “because I said so.”</p><p>“You cannot take her,” Calanthe hisses in his face. “I will not let you. I will not let you take the only family I have left.”</p><p>“Gee,” Geralt begins, half a sneer forming informing the false-cheer of his words. “Thanks, Aunt Calanthe.” </p><p>When he offers no other defense, she turns to the lawyer. “He can’t possibly take care of Cirilla. He can barely care for himself.”</p><p>The lawyer gives her a hard look, clearly used to Calanthe’s specific brand of extreme. “That would be something to look into should anyone find evidence that he is an unsuitable guardian, but in the meantime, there is nothing stopping him from caring for Cirilla.”</p><p>“There has to be something. Surely Pavetta can’t just name some random person in a will and that’s it. Aren’t there legal hoops to jump through for that sort of thing?”</p><p>“Not for next of kin, which he is.”</p><p>“I’m her next of kin!” Calanthe shouts and Geralt is certain that his niece is somewhere in this house, hopefully far enough away to not be bothered. “I’m her mother! He didn’t even know Pavetta until she was 18!”</p><p>“Nonetheless,” the lawyer continued, unphased. Geralt was starting to like him. “He is her cousin, and as such, he has just as much claim over kinship as you. And Pavetta clearly listed him as the first inheritor for all of her assets and guardianship of her child. Unless he renounces these responsibilities, there is nothing to be done.” </p><p>Both pairs of eyes turn to him, two different shades of expectant. </p><p>He simply said: “I want to see Ciri.”<br/><br/></p><p>~</p><p> </p><p>Eist is a bit more reasonable than Calanthe, but he’s undyingly, infuriatingly loyal to his wife. He was against Calanthe’s whole “Let’s get Duny thrown in jail” plan and had won Geralt’s favor for actually fighting with him, but now it seems he has switched sides. Asshole. Geralt has to make a stupid joke about climbing out the three-story window with Ciri in his arms to be left alone with the kid for just 5 fucking minutes.</p><p>Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon is 10 months old and can apparently crawl pretty damn well. And pull herself into a shaky standing position by holding onto his jeans. He is suddenly very aware of how little he knows about children. Is she old enough for solids? Does she sleep through the night yet? Geralt is pretty sure there are supposed to be educational activities for a child this young, even if they’re just talking at her. </p><p>He doesn’t talk a whole lot. Would that fuck her communication skills up? No, he can learn to talk more, just for her. Just when it’s the two of them. </p><p>He picks Ciri up, and she smiles as if she knows him. As if he was a frequent visitor or her actual parent. Children generally don’t like him; his voice is grating and appearance unsettling if not outright scary. Ciri just babbles and starts pulling on his hair, trying to fist it into her mouth. He gently pries it out of her hand and looks around, quickly finding a pacifier and offering it up. </p><p>She coos at him and starts gently rubbing her little hands all over his stubble, giggling at the feeling. He feels possibly the biggest smile he’s ever expressed, and certainly the first since Pavetta’s death, take over his face. This could be <em>his. </em> This soft, quiet love and trust. A child is no way to treat your tragically low self-esteem, but Geralt is painfully aware of this and knows that he would <em>never </em>use Ciri for anything except for an excuse to not attend some social event. </p><p>She is his family. The only family he has left because god knows Visenna and Calanthe have long since erased themselves from that narrative. And… he does feel for Calanthe. He knows Pavetta was her world and that she feels very strongly for her granddaughter. She would raise Ciri well, he was sure. She would want for nothing, have the best education, and be entirely safe and loved. Calanthe wasn’t the best, morals-wise, but she was kind to those she cared for. And she couldn’t be too terrible a guardian since Pavetta ended up so wonderful. </p><p>But Pavetta… chose <em> Geralt. </em> God, he had no clue why. He wasn’t a family man, children didn’t like him, and neither did Calanthe. Pavetta was the only blood relative he had that gave him the time of day and he still doesn’t know why she bothered. Why she wanted to get to know him and why she kept pursuing a relationship after getting to know him. But she did. She chose Geralt, her estranged cousin who she had only known for a few years, over her own mother. It spoke volumes, even if he couldn’t make out the words.</p><p>“I miss your mom,” he whispers to Ciri as if it’s a secret. It’s the first time he’s mentioned Pavetta out loud since her passing. It feels relieving to say. “I wish she was still here. So I could ask her a few things.” He dodges a finger's attempt to explore his nostril, chuckling. “Something tells me you’re going to be a lot like her. A lot like your grandma too.”</p><p>He sighs, his soft smile dropping. “I don’t know if I should take you with me. I don’t know the first thing about caring for a child. I barely know your name and birthday. You already have habits and it would be frustrating for the both of us if those suddenly changed.” He shifted her in his arms, letting her fiddle with his fingers. “Montana is very different from Massachusetts, and I work full time and don’t have a spouse for help.” </p><p>Her eyes suddenly meet his and he’s struck by how much she looks like her mother. The same determined green eyes, same soft white-blonde hair. It almost feels like Pavetta’s there, telling him he’s an idiot and overthinking as usual.</p><p>The door opens and Eist is there. </p><p>“I think you should probably go before Calanthe finds something to call the cops over.” He holds his arms out for Ciri, but Geralt doesn’t move.</p><p>“I need time,” Geralt says and Eist starts saying something about how he used up his five minutes before Geralt stops him. “No. I need time to decide. Whether or not I’m going to take her.”</p><p>Eist’s expression hardens. “How long are you in Boston?”</p><p>“A few days.”</p><p>He sighs. “Well, then. I think you should take those days to think about this. Truly think about this. Raising a child is a lot of responsibility. It takes time and effort, love and attentiveness. <em> Patience </em>.” Eist looks like he might punch Geralt if he weren’t holding his granddaughter. “If you think for even a moment that you might fail at any of these, be it 3am or noon, you would do well to let Calanthe and I take over.”</p><p>Geralt nods and gently sets Ciri down on the little playmat surrounded by toys he had found her on before and turns to leave. He passes Eist, careful not to touch shoulders, and only looks back when the man calls after him. </p><p>“I hope you’ll do the right thing,” he says, staring Geralt dead in the eyes.</p><p><em> I hope so too, </em>Geralt doesn’t say. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. 5 Hours Makes No Difference</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Geralt confides in his very best friend in the world (after Roach, of course).</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Upon arriving back in his motel, Geralt lies down on his bed and proceeds to stare at the ceiling for approximately 3 hours.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His mind is doing circles, arguing back and forth about the pros and cons, what he could do for Ciri versus what he lacks. For all the logical statements he objectively knows to be true (he had the finances for it, especially with the inheritance from Pavetta, he’s a fast and very determined learner, he likes Ciri, he knows nothing about childcare, he doesn’t have a lot of spare time, he’d be tearing her from her grandmother and hurting his aunt even more),  the one thought that stands out most of all is </span>
  <em>
    <span>Pavetta chose him</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She chose Geralt over Calanthe. It’s her daughter and she knows Geralt and Calanthe better than they know each other. She knows Ciri, and she knew herself. She knew what she was doing, choosing him. Right?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eventually, enough is enough and he can’t stew in his thoughts anymore. He needs to talk it out with someone who will actually talk back. With a sigh, he fishes out his cell phone and calls one of six contacts. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What the fuck, Geralt,” is all a sleepy Jaskier offers in greeting. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt grimaces and glances at the clock. It’s around 3am in London and with Jaskier on tour, he no doubt only just got to sleep and will have to be up again in a couple of hours. “Sorry. Forgot about the time difference.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Immediately Jaskier’s demeanor changes because the only person who knows Geralt better than Pavetta is Jaskier, and Jaskier can always tell when somethings wrong, even when Geralt barely knows himself. “Geralt, what’s wrong?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt lets out a long breath. “A lot.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jaskier waits a second to see if there’s to be any further explanation, then gently prods when he receives none. “It’s only been two weeks since we last talked, surely the world hasn’t ended since then,” he half-heartedly jokes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The silence is deafening. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pavetta and Duny died,” Geralt says, voice so heartbreakingly soft, and everything stops. Jaskier’s breathing, Geralt’s voice, Jaskier’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>brain</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jaskier had known Pavetta, had played at the wedding, had met her a few times and genuinely enjoyed her company. He knew she and Geralt were close, that she had done what no one else in her family would and had welcomed Geralt, called him cousin proudly. They didn’t know each other as long as Jaskier had known Geralt, but he had a sneaking suspicion that they were closer than Geralt let on. He knew how big of a blow this must be.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, my dear,” he breathes finally. “I’m sorry to hear that.” There’s not much else to say. He had liked Pavetta, what little he’d known of her, and was absolutely </span>
  <em>
    <span>aching</span>
  </em>
  <span> knowing he could do nothing more to comfort his friend than simply sit there on the phone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Geralt intones. He seems as much at a loss for words as Jaskier. After another bout of silence, Jaskier gathers the courage to ask “What happened?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Another breath. “Car wreck, about a week ago. Funeral was a couple days ago.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jaskier starts and has to remind himself that Geralt is in a delicate state right now and doesn’t need him acting indignant and squeaky. “I don’t mean to sound insensitive, but is there a reason you waited a week to confide in me your grief?” Despite his best efforts, he knows he sounds like a bit of a dick, but he truly wants to know. Geralt is known to stew over his feelings before going to anyone for help, but it’s usually something smaller. The big heartbreaking things either go unsaid or are shared immediately (usually the former). Something was different this time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Her will was read today,” Geralt starts and then stops. Okay, Jaskier thinks. Have no idea why that would add to the grief, but it’s certainly a start. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And?” he gently encourages.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And,” Geralt breathes. “She left Ciri to me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Everything stops again. Jaskier finds it’s a common event when Geralt’s involved. Stopping. In his life, everything’s constantly moving, constantly loud and flashy, with no pauses for rest. Geralt sees his fair share of little adventures but he also has quite a lot of </span>
  <em>
    <span>moments</span>
  </em>
  <span>. And now, apparently, he has a child.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She left you… her daughter?” Jaskier asks, trying to wrap his head around it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Among other things,” Geralt confirms, as if the babe were a unique book or set of china rather than a </span>
  <em>
    <span>living, breathing human.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wha- is she with you now?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, she’s not with me,” Geralt snaps. “She’s with Calanthe, in her crib, in her </span>
  <em>
    <span>home.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Geralt sounds </span>
  <em>
    <span>pained</span>
  </em>
  <span>, as though the words crawled out with sharp claws. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, sorry for thinking your cousin would be with you after you became her legal guardian.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Technically, I won’t become her legal guardian unless I officially claim her.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jaskier almost doesn’t want to ask, but he’s never been good at keeping his mouth shut. “And if you don’t?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then she stays with Calanthe.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, that wouldn’t be the worst thing, I suppose. Though I’m not sure she would let you visit if she was in charge, which would be unacceptable. Besides, it’s not as if you won’t claim her, right?” Jaskier says as if he firmly believes Geralt wouldn’t think twice. He hopes he wouldn’t. “Right, Geralt?” he repeats after he gets no response. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know if I will.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jaskier wants to cry. His best friend, miles and miles away, sounds like he’s breaking, and there is almost nothing he can do. But the keyword here is </span>
  <em>
    <span>almost</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “Why not?” he asks, carefully. Calmly. Completely void of any judgment, good or bad. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because I don’t know if I </span>
  <em>
    <span>should.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why not?” Jaskier repeats, because that’s not a reason and Geralt needs many reminders that Jaskier is not a mind reader.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve never had a child before. I don’t know the first thing about raising one.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, that’s easy. The first thing is love, and everything else comes through effort and learning. Pavetta had never had a child before Ciri either,” Jaskier points out. This is a dance he knows well at this point. Geralt will feed him his insecurities and one at a time, Jaskier will pick them apart, over and over, until Geralt reluctantly believes in himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My lifestyle isn’t exactly conducive to child-rearing,” Geralt says, bitterly. It’s something he’s said a few times before, when Jaskier has asked him about what he wants from life.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jaskier scoffs. “Plenty of people raise children all on their own, you’re not special.” Well, he is, but not because of </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “You could take parental leave until you get settled and then there are daycares and nannies for when you’re working. Plus, Uncle Jaskier is always available,” he teases before pausing, correcting. “Well, when he’s not touring around Europe that is. But that’s almost done! Only a week and a half left and then I’m flying back to Spare Room, Geralt Town.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You realize that if I took her, it wouldn’t be a spare room anymore, right?” Jaskier can practically see the smug twist of his mouth and it overjoys him to hear his best friend engaging in humor once again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, well, yes. We’d have to figure something out, I can’t room with a baby. Ooh! We could go house hunting! Get a 4 bedroom so Yenna and I won't have to fight over decore anymore.” It was rare that both Jaskier and Yennefer were staying with Geralt at the same time, but every single time Yennefer got the spare room because her name was on the lease. Jaskier didn’t particularly mind since he just shared with Geralt when that happened, but it was still nice to have your own space. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jaskier,” Geralt says and Jaskier knows the conversation is back to being serious. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Geralt,” Jaskier replies in much the same tone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know if I can do this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jaskier hates, hates, </span>
  <em>
    <span>hates</span>
  </em>
  <span>, seeing his best friend so small, and loves that he’s trusted enough to see it all the same. “That’s okay.” Jaskier smiles even though Geralt can’t see him. He can probably hear it. “I know you can. And I can make a list of the reasons if you give a little time and some paper.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Calanthe…” Geralt starts, still protesting.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck Calanthe,” Jaskier interrupts. “Calanthe doesn’t bother thinking of you so you shouldn’t bother thinking of her.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt growls, frustrated. “I know but… she’s devastated. I don’t like her, Jaskier, but I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>hate</span>
  </em>
  <span> her. I think taking Ciri from her might break her.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then grant her visitations,” Jaskier says dismissively. “Look. You want to take care of Ciri, yes?” Jaskier waits a moment for a soft “Yes” before continuing. “And you are capable of caring for Ciri - No, that wasn’t a question. And Pavetta wants you to take care of Ciri. So, what’s the problem?” He finally asked, knowing full well there was no real problem with the situation, just Geralt’s outlook.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“... I’m scared,” Geralt whispered. “I’m scared I’ll fuck it up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jaskier sighs. “So are all new parents, Geralt. I’m certain Pavetta and Duny were too. I’d bet my bottom dollar that </span>
  <em>
    <span>Calanthe</span>
  </em>
  <span> was scared when she found out she was pregnant with Pavetta. It’s only natural to be scared of what you’ve never experienced before.” Jaskier paused and took a breath for courage. “But I did mean what I said before. Anytime I’m not working, my time is yours. I bet Yenna would say the same. You don’t have to be alone in this, as with everything else. I know about as much as you do, I’m sure, but two heads are better than one and all that.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He chuckles softly, trying to ease Geralt’s worry. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I just… don’t get why she chose me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can think of a few reasons, but darling, did she not explain herself?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She wrote… a letter. One for me and one for Calanthe.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Smart,</span>
  </em>
  <span> thinks Jaskier. “What did it say?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I haven’t read it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jaskier would’ve laughed at the silliness if Geralt didn’t sound so sad still. “May I suggest reading the explanation? Might help with the confusion.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>can’t,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Geralt insists. There was a pause before he continued. “I already thought I’d never get to hear from her again. Reading that would make it… </span>
  <em>
    <span>real</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Jaskier breathes, because what else can he say to that? “If you can’t read her letter then at least listen to my explanation. Pavetta trusts you to raise Ciri the way she would if she hadn’t passed. Think of it as her last wish. You wouldn’t want to deny Pavetta that, would you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jaskier waits with bated breath until he hears Geralt sigh. “She’d probably come back and kick me in the ass if I tried.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A smile breaks out on both of their faces, though neither of them knows it. Then Jaskier yawns.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You should go back to sleep. I didn’t mean to wake you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jaskier can hear the frown in his voice. “Are there any other self-deprecating thoughts floating around in that head of yours that I need to shoot down?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt laughed softly. “Not right now. Not anymore.” He paused long enough that Jaskier almost started to say goodnight. “Thank you, Jaskier.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course,” Jaskier says, light with giddy. “You’re welcome anytime.” Geralt hums. “Oh, and Geralt? You should probably at least text Yennefer to tell her that you’re a daddy now because she will kill you if she comes home to find a baby in her room and then all of this will have been for nothing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not a da-” Geralt began protesting, only to be cut off by Jaskier’s cheery call.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Goodnight, Geralt!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And the line went dead. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. I Think I'll Wait Another Day</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Geralt pays a visit and then pays his respects.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW: brief description of injury, but mild compared to actual canon.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Though their conversation ended as though a firm conclusion had been met, Geralt is still unsure of what he’ll do and tells Jaskier so when he wakes up the next morning. Jaskier, of course, is unphased and tells him <em> I know you can do it. </em> Geralt’s not sure if he means he knows Geralt can make the decision or raise Ciri, but it’s comforting nonetheless.</p>
<p>There’s not much to do in Boston, no one he knows other than the surviving Riannons, so after a late breakfast and a long bout of stewing, Geralt decides to visit Ciri again. He wants to get to know his family, especially if he is to take on the responsibility of its future. Maybe this time he can actually spend time with her.</p>
<p>Eist isn’t happy when he opens the door, but Geralt is going to pretend it’s because of the spit-up on his front rather than his own presence. Makes for easier company.</p>
<p>“Calanthe is sleeping,” is all Eist says, not bothering to step back or invite Geralt in.</p>
<p>“Is Ciri?”</p>
<p>Eist narrows his eyes. “No. But her nap is soon.”</p>
<p>“I can put her down for you,” Geralt offers before he can remind himself that <em>he’s never done that before and doesn’t know how. </em> Eist just raises an eyebrow and walks back into the house, leaving the door open. Geralt follows, letting the lock graze the doorjamb because he’s petty and they can afford it. </p>
<p>Ciri is determinedly crawling from one end of the (far too fancy) salon to the other, sucking on something that looks like it shouldn’t be in her mouth. Eist notices and recognizes it as a spoon a second before Geralt and hurriedly scoops her up and gently pries the silverware from her grasp.</p>
<p>“You are just like your mother,” Geralt laughs and Eist gives him a look that suggests he’s curious about the connection Geralt made, but hates it. Geralt decides to be generous and explain, pretending to elaborate on Ciri’s behalf. “When she was two, your mom ran around with a spoon full of peanut butter all the time before she fell one day and got it stuck in her soft palate.”</p>
<p>Eist looks about the same color Calanthe did yesterday and Geralt takes pleasure in the way he eyes the spoon before putting it where Ciri can’t reach. Ciri squirms and he sets her down again. “Can’t imagine Calanthe was very calm that day.”</p>
<p>“Hmm, she definitely flipped,” Geralt agreed. “Took Visenna half an hour to convince her that she wasn’t permanently injured.” </p>
<p>“You were there? I thought you and Pavetta hadn’t met until she was already an adult.”</p>
<p>“Pavetta was never old enough to remember and Calanthe didn’t care to remind her,” Geralt says, watching Ciri try to climb an ottoman. “Visenna and I were gone before her third birthday.”</p>
<p>Ciri falls from the ottoman and it’s only by virtue of being closer that Geralt is able to get there before Eist. He cradles her as gently as he can, letting her rest her head against his chest as he makes soothing rumbling sounds. She quiets far faster than he expects, but doesn’t stop crying completely. </p>
<p>“It’s nap time,” Eist comments. He takes a moment to regard Geralt before resigning. “You’ll want a bottle.”</p>
<p>Geralt is glad that Eist at least isn’t actively trying to sabotage his reconnaissance mission, even if he suspects it’s only so that he doesn’t have to deal with the fallout. He passes off her bottle and turns on loud, grating white noise, but gives no tips and simply leaves Geralt to the nursery. </p>
<p>Taking a look around, Geralt shrugs out of his leather jacket and tosses it purposefully over the video monitor. He fucking hates cameras, he doesn’t care whether or not they actually watch back the footage. He settles in the rocking chair by the corner and gets a rhythm going as Ciri hungrily drinks down her formula. Almost too soon, she’s finished and staring up at him with those big green eyes expectantly.</p>
<p>“I bet you’re wanting a lullaby,” Geralt sighs. Ciri gives nothing away but he knows Pavetta certainly sang to her daughter. Probably sang some of Jaskier’s slower songs on occasion. He relents, stuffing the uncomfortable itchy feeling of being observed from his mind as he tries to recall the lyrics to a lullaby from his own childhood. </p>
<p>When he was little, Dumbo was his favorite movie. At the time, he had loved the idea of a flying elephant and the message that you could do anything if you only had the confidence, but looking back there was probably a subconscious connection to Dumbo’s odd appearance and desperation to be accepted by those that spit on him. Regardless, his mother suffered through his countless rewatchings with only mild complaining and would sing <em> Baby Mine </em>when he asked. </p>
<p>He rumbles through the short, simple song, making up what he doesn’t remember and keeping his voice low enough that even if someone were to be listening in, they wouldn’t be able to hear him over the white noise. Cirilla is fascinated for the first two rounds, staring at him with an intensity he hadn’t known was possible from one so young, but halfway through his third repeat her eyes begin to flutter and she’s stopped all movement by the sixth. </p>
<p>He continues rocking for a while after, intent on making sure she’s asleep enough to not stir when he sets her in her crib. Plus, it’s… nice. She’s warm in his arms and her little hand is wrapped around his thumb. She’s so adorable it hurts his chest in a way he’s never experienced before. </p>
<p>He’s seen babies before, even held a couple, and has felt that squeeze in his heart when something’s too cute to handle. He remembers reading somewhere that the urge to hug something so tightly comes from wanting the overwhelming emotions to cease. This is not that. It’s an actual <em> pain</em>. Like if he puts her down then suddenly he’ll stop breathing and the world will crumble away.</p>
<p>He never wants to let her go.</p>
<p>But Cirilla can’t stay in his arms forever and the white noise is starting to really get to him, so he carefully sets her in her crib, all snug in her footie jammies, retrieves his jacket and the empty bottle, and leaves the nursery as silently as possible.</p>
<p>Eist is not in the salon. Geralt rinses out the bottle, leaves it in the sink and decides to snoop. Really, it’s not snooping if you know exactly where you’re headed and what you’ll find, which Geralt does. Pavetta’s room is two doors down from Ciri’s, and it’s shut tightly but unlocked.</p>
<p>It’s been a while since he was in this house, in this room. The wedding was the last time. She had asked him back here so they could talk away from the prying eyes of Calanthe and her friends. She had looked beautiful in her green dress and she smiled at him so brightly he couldn’t help but send one back.</p>
<p>The room has changed.</p>
<p>He expected it, what with the additional occupant for the last two years, but it’s still strange to see. Pavetta was a lover of blues and greens, and that hadn’t changed but now there was the addition of dark pinks as well. A larger chest or drawers, things on both nightstands instead of just the left one. </p>
<p>It is also relatively untouched.</p>
<p>There are clothes on the floor, the bed is mussed because Pavetta never cared enough to properly make it every morning, and her vanity is an absolute mess, just the way he remembers. The closet door is ajar and inside he can see the sleeve of that green dress. He stands there, staring at it long enough that he forgets to count the minutes. He’s just aware enough of the movement behind him to not startle when Calanthe speaks at his shoulder.</p>
<p>“Sometimes I think about cleaning it, but I never do.” She smiles sadly up at him and he remembers the funeral, where she had actually embraced him. “Eist is going to make me pack it all up eventually, but I know that once I do, there will be nothing to do but remember.”</p>
<p>Geralt says nothing, but meets her gaze when she turns to him. </p>
<p>“I thought a little more about what she said in her letter. I assume yours is a bit different,” she hesitated and for the second time in his life, he saw his lioness of an aunt scared. “I was hoping we might share the contents, get a little more of Pavetta.”</p>
<p>Geralt gives a small smile, because as shitty as she can be sometimes, they do have this one thing in common: they would do anything for Pavetta. “I appreciate it, but I’m not quite ready for that yet.” At her tightened mouth he adds: “I will, someday, but I need time. To process.”</p>
<p>She nods, face set like when she addresses the public. “Are you taking her then?” Her tone is stony and hides none of her resentment.</p>
<p>He doesn’t need to ask for clarification. “Maybe.”</p>
<p>Calanthe sighs, frustrated. “I don’t think I need to tell you my feelings on the subject.” She’s right, she doesn’t, but she goes ahead and tells him anyway. “This house hasn’t been empty of children since it was built. It’s much too big for just Eist and I.”</p>
<p>Buy a smaller house, he thinks but doesn’t say. Calanthe locks her eyes on his, expression firm as always. “You must recognize that she would be better off here. With our assets and connections she would have every opportunity, could become anything.”</p>
<p>Geralt says nothing.</p>
<p>“I won’t let you keep her from me regardless. Know that if you try, I will rain hell down on you in court.”</p>
<p>“And if I gave her up, you would let me see her?” He practically snarls the question, knowing the answer and hating it with his entire being.</p>
<p>“If you wished.” Liar. “Though I must admit, I never took you for the fatherly type. Or even a fun uncle.” Her weak attempt at a joke falls flat and an uncomfortable silence stretches. Both of them are too proud to squirm.</p>
<p>“I wouldn’t keep her from you,” Geralt says finally, mostly so that Calanthe will end the conversation. “She deserves all the things I was denied growing up.” It’s a personal jab disguised as an olive branch; a language they both speak well.</p>
<p>Calanthe nods, apparently satisfied, turning to leave before pausing. “You can take something, if you like. To remember her by.” She does not look at him. “I know you miss her, too.” Geralt doesn’t know what to say to that so he says nothing. She leaves and Geralt is left alone with his memories once more.</p>
<p>He goes over to the vanity, a sprawl of various products, half of which he doesn’t know the purpose of. He inspects each one closely, looking for something specific before he finds it, tucked away almost behind the mirror. A small perfume bottle, smelling of rosewater and pine. He has to clamp down on tears as they threaten to overtake him with a flood of memories, all of them turned bittersweet with loss. </p>
<p>By the time he’s back in his room, he’s forgotten why he was holding them back and falls asleep in his jeans, the perfume bottle on the nightstand. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Whoo boy, this got sadder than I was expecting. I feel like I'm getting the hang of writing Geralt, but I have forgotten what my brother was like at this age now that he's Big. I need to watch some old family videos for research. Sneaky reference to the song In The Bedroom Down The Hall and yes the peanut butter spoon thing is something that happened to my little brother and my stepmom is still horrified.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. A Decision Must Be Made</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's Geralt's last day in Boston, and a decision must be made.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It’s Geralt’s last day in Boston, and a decision must be made. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tonight, he will fly back to Lolo, either with a little bundle of joy or empty arms and a heavy heart. He knows what he wants to do, but despite Jaskier’s best efforts, he’s still not confident it’s what he should do. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s frustrating in a heart-heavy way, being across the sea, performing every night while his best friend, his favorite person in the world, is panicked and stressed. If he thought he could catch a last-minute flight to Boston before Geralt left, he would cancel the last week of shows and drive to the airport right that moment. As it is, all he can do is sneak away during lunch and text Geralt: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Up for a call?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He waits for an affirmative response before deciding to be sneaky and video calling him. Call him cruel, but he wants to see the idiot’s face. It’s obvious he’s just woken up, which means he slept in since it’s already 8am in Boston, which means last night was decidedly </span>
  <em>
    <span>not fun</span>
  </em>
  <span>. His point is further proved by fabric creases on Geralt’s face and the redness of his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did not consent to this,” Geralt grumbles roughly and yeah, that’s definitely the first thing he’s said today. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My sincerest apologies for missing your face,” Jaskier says, starting with flouncy politeness and ending with a deadpan. “As usual, you’re a morning glory, with the slept-in ponytail and day-old clothes. How could I pass up an opportunity to see such beauty?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt hums, unwilling to rise to the baited tease. “Why’d you want to call?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, my darling dear, I wanted to see how you were doing,” Jaskier answers truthfully. “What with all the surprise child happenings. How is Ciri doing, by the way? The last time I saw a picture was that one you showed me, what, three months ago?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s a baby, I don’t know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Very enlightening, thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt huffs and rolls his eyes. “She has the memory of a goldfish, she doesn’t exactly have complex emotional needs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t mean that,” Jaskier says, exacerbated. “I know nothing of what she’s supposed to be doing at this age. Does she crawl? Does she walk? Does she have teeth? Can she say words?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She can crawl, and stand with help.” Geralt frowns. “I haven’t seen any teeth and she mostly babbles nonsense.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Adorable,” Jaskier coos. “You must send me a video of the little sweetheart.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt huffs. “Just wait a week and you can see her in person, if you want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier practically jumps in excitement. “Really? Does that mean you’ve 100% decided to claim her?” Geralt’s expression shuts faster than a government office on a Friday at 5pm and internally, Jaskier groans. Why did he always have to clam up when he felt the slightest bit unsure? “Have you at least made a decision?” He asks instead, even though the other option pains him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt avoids looking at the screen and it’s all Jaskier can do to not outwardly sigh. “You have to make one today, Geralt. You can’t just not decide because, regardless of what you believe, that is still a choice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck, Jaskier.” Geralt suddenly throws himself back onto what Jaskier is assuming is a bed, ruining his view of the man’s face. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>want </span>
  </em>
  <span>to - Christ, I want to - but it feels selfish.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s… actually not at all surprising. Leave it to Geralt- Jaskier actually sighs this time and says, “Please give me your face back and explain why you could possibly think this is a selfish desire.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt moves, there’s a lot of shuffling and then the camera is right in his big, frowny face. Normally, an expression like this would have someone running for their lives but a) it’s never worked on Jaskier and b) it’s effect is severely diminished by the fact that Geralt is laying on his side, causing his head to be tilted at a truly adorable angle. “Because,” he seethes. “I’d be a shitty parent and Calanthe would provide a lot more.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Woah, woah, woah!” Jaskier was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> expecting that but really, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>should have been</span>
  </em>
  <span>, because </span>
  <em>
    <span>leave it to Geralt- </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Hold the phone.” A pause as Geralt’s eyebrows furrow. “Now give the phone to me. What the hell makes you think you’d be a shitty dad?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um, everything and everyone, ever, in my life?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier wants to cry. Instead, he takes a deep breath and presses his hands together in a prayer motion. “No.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Jaskier repeats, firmly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fucking hell, Jaskier.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” he begins, patient as he’s able to be. “You would not be a shitty dad. No, anyone who has ever implied or made you believe you would be is an idiot and now on my personal hit list. And no,” he continues, nearing something like anger. “Calanthe could not provide better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt opens his mouth, protests at the ready but Jaskier holds a hand up and continues speaking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, you get to listen to me now. Calanthe has more money than you, yes. She also has quite a lot of connections that could open some very nice doors for Ciri when she’s older. However,” Jaskier raises his voice slightly when Geralt again tries to speak. “You raising her in Montana does not stop her from benefiting from those. Calanthe’s not so petty that she’d let her granddaughter’s education or career suffer just because you decided to exercise your legal right. She would rather die than let someone take her family from her and she’s probably suffering from terrible empty nest syndrome, but with frequent visits and phone calls, I’m sure she’d come around to the arrangement eventually. I mean, she’s what, 60-something now? She shouldn’t be chasing after a toddler, she deserves a retirement. You can tell her I said that, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier pauses only long enough to breathe. “And that nonsense about being a shitty father. Honestly! You are a wonderfully kind and attentive man. Yes, you hate people and enjoy silence more than just about anything, but you’ve put up with me all these years so your patience speaks </span>
  <em>
    <span>volumes</span>
  </em>
  <span>, darling. You’re also the softest person when it comes to children. Don’t even try to deny it; I was </span>
  <em>
    <span>there</span>
  </em>
  <span> when you got that first picture of Ciri, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>melted.</span>
  </em>
  <span> All of the technical stuff is secondary and easily learnable for someone like you, Mr. Research. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can give that little girl a loving home. A taste of her mother, a slice of what she’s lost without even knowing it.” Jaskier turns almost unbearably soft as he sees his words hit Geralt. “Believe what you will, refuse to open that letter, but I think Pavetta chose you because she </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew </span>
  </em>
  <span>you and</span>
  <em>
    <span> trusted </span>
  </em>
  <span>you to care for her daughter the way she would have. I know you were always saying that she was more like Calanthe than she was willing to admit, and you’re right, but Pavetta is also a great deal like </span>
  <em>
    <span>you.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier pauses, breathing for a moment and letting Geralt digest his words. “I know you like to think yourself unknowable and this big, mysterious, broody man, but I know you. And I think you would make a wonderful father.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt, whose face is now buried in a sad excuse for a duvet, lets out a deep sigh. He lifts his head just enough to rub a hand over his face and Jaskier itches to make the man shower before doing anything else today. “I need to talk to Calanthe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sounds… resigned. And that on its own doesn’t indicate whether he’s made a decision in the positive or negative. But Jaskier’s pushed him enough considering Geralt hasn’t even brushed his teeth let alone had a chance for some coffee. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier sighs too, only much quieter and less world-weary. “Do what you have to but… if you’re planning on giving her up, at least read Pavetta’s letter before you do. It’s only fair.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt contemplates, then nods. It is only fair, and Pavetta deserves as much as he can give. “I’ll talk to you later, Jask.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How about you call me once you’re back in Lolo? We can make plans for my first day back next week.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt frowns and ends the call. He makes no promises.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This time, when the door opens, Calanthe is the one behind it. She doesn’t smile at him but then again, he can’t remember her ever smiling at him. He spares the pleasantries and gets right down to business, for both of their sakes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Today’s my last day in Boston. We should talk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nods, mouth set as always, and leads him into the house. They pass the salon, kitchen, and entertainment room, ending up in the study where the will was read. It feels like eons ago rather than just two days. Calanthe sits behind the desk, her position of power, and leaves Geralt with the same chair from before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She inclines her head and hands to Geralt, expectant. Geralt meets her eyes determinedly. “I want to take Ciri.” Her expression hardens but she allows him to continue. “Pavetta wanted me to care for her and I want to be in Ciri’s life, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be as well. You have enough money to visit whenever you feel like it and when she’s older, she can spend school holidays here with you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not every school holiday, of course, but that’s something to be argued when she actually starts school. “I’d never wish for her to grow up without her grandparents.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Calanthe looks the way she did when Pavetta announced her engagement to Duny, which is to say not pleased and slightly murderous. “I could challenge you, you know,” she threatens. “I could take this to court and throw everything I have at you, I know enough. Last time I checked, you didn't have health insurance and had at least a few arrests on your record.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A few peaceful protests hardly make me a shitty guardian,” Geralt argues. “And I can get health insurance.” He had the money for it now thanks to Pavetta. When Calanthe’s expression remains unchanged he continues, grabbing at Jaskier’s arguments from earlier. “Mayorship doesn’t leave much time to raise a toddler.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have Eist.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s also a mayor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you’re an exterminator.” Calanthe looks thoroughly unimpressed. “Do you really think you have more time for her than I do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, and I also have Jaskier.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Calanthe’s eyes narrow with a sneer. “That unemployed artist? I hadn’t realized I’d missed the wedding.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unemployed? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Unemployed?</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Jaskier makes more during a single tour than I do during wasp season.” Maybe not the smoothest defense but seriously, he makes a lot from getting rid of wasps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you’re going to rely on a pop star for your income?” Calanthe taunts and Geralt is remembering why he hates politicians so much. Always twisting his words, making him dizzy. Making him </span>
  <em>
    <span>angry.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you rather I depend on you?” He’s not planning on depending on either of them, on anyone in his life ever again but that doesn’t feel as scathing coming out of his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Calanthe raises an eyebrow. “I, at least, have more stability than some singer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt takes a deep breath, feeling the frayed edges of his patience near its end. “I have the finances to do this on my own, I have the time to do it on my own, and I am willing to do it on my own. Pavetta chose me and I want Cirilla, so I will take her, care for her, and love her as best as I know how. If you don’t like it, you can go back to ignoring my existence.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stands, itching to leave this house for the last time. “Unless you have a court summons all ready to slap me with, I’m going to go pack up Ciri’s things, and I’m going to take her home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be ridiculous,” Calanthe snaps and Geralt can almost feel a blood vessel popping. But then she sighs and stands herself. “Eist and I will do the packing, we know the essentials for her care.” She wasn’t looking at him and the vulnerability of it was enough to make Geralt's anger drain away and leave him tired and raw. “We can send the rest of the things, including Duny’s motorcycle, later. We certainly have the money for it, as you so graciously pointed out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Calanthe leaves Geralt to deal with the whiplash of her adamantly refusing to let him have Ciri, to agreeing to </span>
  <em>
    <span>help</span>
  </em>
  <span> him move her things. It’s not till later, as he’s flying back to Lolo with Ciri chewing on plastic keys, that he fully comprehends Calanthe’s words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, motorcycle?”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I went against the precedent in this chapter and I'm going to pretend it was on purpose to keep you all on your toes. I'm trying to keep up my writing but everything's pretty hectic now so your patience is appreciated.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Home Sweet Home</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Jaskier returns home. Geralt needs to eat real food. Neither of these people are functioning adults, who gave them a baby.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jaskier ends up taking an Uber from the airport because despite Geralt being a dear and doting friend, he did recently become the sole guardian of a 10 month old and, as far as Jaskier knows, hasn’t slept any better for it. Plus, familial reunions are best done in private.</p><p>Essi teases him nearly every time he calls Geralt that. Family. But it’s true. Geralt’s (and Yennefer’s for that matter) love is much more unconditional than one belonging to anyone Jaskier shares a surname with. They live together, eat together, share their deepest, darkest fears. If that’s not family, Jaskier’s not sure what <em> is. </em>  </p><p>It’s early afternoon when he tugs his bags from the trunk of a delightful old man’s car and hauls them up the front steps. He texted Geralt when he boarded and told him the expected time of landing, but hasn’t given any updates since then, intent on at least mildly surprising his little welcoming party.</p><p>He doesn’t bother knocking - he does live here, after all - and simply pushes the door with a large smile, ready to wax poetic at the sights of his dearest friend and his baby. Unfortunately, all he’s met with is a disastrous but empty living room. </p><p>Oh.</p><p>It’s all quiet in the house, which is not unusual in and of itself, but Jaskier was under the impression that babies were <em> loud </em>. Perhaps Ciri is sleeping. He’s fairly certain Geralt hasn’t left the house since returning from Boston and he can’t think of anything short of an emergency to make him do so with Jaskier on the way home.</p><p>Carefully and quietly, in case Ciri truly is sleeping, Jaskier makes his way to his room, (which he supposes will be <em> Ciri’s </em> room until further notice) leaving his bags in the entryway. By what must be the grace of God, the door doesn’t squeak as Jaskier pushes it open and he is awarded for every moment of <em> good </em> in his life with perhaps the cutest, sweetest, most adorable sight <em> ever. </em></p><p>Geralt, lying on his back with his mouth slightly agape, hair in need of a good scrub and a comb, with darling little Cirilla curled up on his chest, working hard to soak Geralt’s shirt in drool.</p><p>Jaskier’s heart does somersaults and it takes a tremendous amount of effort to not squeal out loud. He blesses his past self for keeping his phone charged during the flight as he fumbles it out of his pocket. He triple checks that his shutter is silent and the flash is off before snapping a variety of photos of the utterly endearing sight before him.</p><p>Then Geralt and his sixth sense for being observed without his permission has to go and ruin it. He wakes up with a frown and Jaskier manages to steal a couple photos of his sleepy pout before it turns into a full-blown scowl. Jaskier sees him contemplate the best way to extricate himself from the child he’s pinned under before he simply rolls them both over so that Ciri’s on her back. He arranges some pillows around her to keep her from rolling off the bed in his absence then shoos Jaskier out the door, following and closing it without so much as a click.</p><p>“Settling gracefully into fatherhood, I see,” Jaskier says, keeping his voice low as he eyes Geralt’s <em> very sexy </em> eye bags. </p><p>Geralt’s scowl returns and he stalks off to the kitchen. Jaskier follows and watches him shuffle through the freezer. Ah. So Geralt <em> hasn’t </em> gone shopping.</p><p>“Hungry?” Geralt asks, already over the teasing.</p><p>Jaskier wrinkles his nose. “For chicken nuggets and Diet Coke? No, thank you, I think I’ll stick to my travel snacks.” He has quite a few and retrieves them from his bag as Geralt takes out three frozen burritos. He shrugs as if to say “Your loss” and pops them in the microwave. God, how this man suffers in Jaskier’s absence.</p><p>“How was Europe?”</p><p>“Bright, flashy, moderately disgusting,” Jaskier says cheerily. “Truly where I belong.”</p><p>“Concerts?”</p><p>“Bright, flashy,” Jaskier repeats. “Even more disgusting. They loved me, of course, and I traumatized many parents. I had the time of my life.”</p><p>“Essi?” Geralt asks, retrieving his horrific burritos and sitting at the kitchen table.</p><p>“Brilliant! Darling! A complete bastard and right gift to this world.” He’ll tell Geralt about the events in more detail later, but for now he’s content to dramatically summarize. It went well and that’s all Geralt cares to hear right off the bat. “How has business been since I took my leave?”</p><p>Geralt grunts, biting off a third of a burrito in one go. “3 raccoons, 5 cases of bed bugs, mice in that one bar, and a whole nest of termites in the bank.” </p><p>“Yeesh,” Jaskier grimaces, pulling out an orange and starting to peel it. “You’d think a bank could spare a few bucks to keep their building in repair.”</p><p>Geralt shrugs, finishing off his burrito. “It’s difficult to detect until your foot goes through the floor.”</p><p>Jaskier waits until he’s scarfed down the other two and has stolen half his orange before asking, “How’s Ciri?”</p><p>Geralt’s expression doesn’t change, but his hands falter for a second where he’s removing the pith from his orange slices. “Adjusting. Trying to train her out of white noise.” </p><p>Jaskier winces sympathetically. Even on a good day he could see that driving Geralt insane. “Certainly couldn’t see you putting up with that 15 hours a day.” </p><p>“You’ve been doing research.” He says it almost like an accusation but his raised eyebrows betray his shock.</p><p>“A quick googling,” Jaskier responds with a dismissive wave. “It was a long flight.” Despite Geralt’s ducked head, Jaskier can see the small quirk of his lips and practically explodes with the realization that Geralt is <em> pleased </em> he’s put effort into this. As if Jaskier was going to leave all that baby girl for Geralt to spoil all on his own. Fat chance. “Have you looked into bigger houses yet? Because while I certainly don’t mind being your personal teddy bear every night, I think you might protest with my things intermingling with yours for the next 17 years.”</p><p>He purposefully dances around the implication of them continuing to live together well into their 40’s because unless Geralt forces change, Jaskier is content to keep good things as they are. Jaskier may have resigned himself to a purely platonic relationship with the man (not to say he’s displeased with their friendship; it’s very rewarding and Jaskier would never consider giving it up) but nothing short of Geralt getting married and kicking Jaskier out will make him leave. And it’s unlikely for that to happen within the next 5 years at <em>least</em>. </p><p>So, they need a bigger house. </p><p>“At the very least we’d need more closet space,” he continues, a cruel smile playing on his face. “I have quite a lot of clothes.”</p><p>“I know,” Geralt deadpans. “You can house hunt, I have work.”</p><p>“I thought you were on parental leave?”</p><p>Geralt shakes his head, standing to begin cleaning up. “Just until you could get here. We still have to deal with those termites.”</p><p>Jaskier gapes at him. “Your own brothers won’t give you more than a <em> week’s parental leave? </em> What’s the point of having your own business if you don’t get all those benefits American corporations are allergic to?” </p><p>Geralt gives him the patented I-am-now-going-to-explain-but-only-to-shut-you-up look. “Do you know what it takes to get rid of termites?”</p><p>“No,” Jaskier admits.</p><p>“$15,000 and at least a week of work.”</p><p>“That is a lot,” Jaskier concedes, hoping he never gets termites. Though he might get a discount, being friends with the best exterminator/contractor business in America.</p><p>“It is,” Geralt confirms. “So I have to help. Once that’s over with, I should get a month or so without being called in though.”</p><p>“Well that’s good.” Geralt nods. “So, I’m on baby duty for the next week.”</p><p>Geralt is suddenly very focused on cleaning the 5 tons of toys, diapers, and various child supplies littering the floor. “You don’t have to. There is a daycare she could stay at while I’m at work.”</p><p>“Why waste money when I’m right here and free?” Jaskier laughs. “I want to, trust me. I’ve never even met the little darling, I am absolutely <em> starved </em> of baby love.”</p><p>Geralt shakes his head (fondly, Jaskier knows). “You’re willing to get up at 5am every day?”</p><p>“Eh, I’ve been doing 6 for the last month and a half. Usually with a killer hangover and 4 hours of sleep, max.” Jaskier shrugs. “I certainly won’t be happy about the time, but complaint is my first language.” </p><p>Famous last words.</p><p> </p><p>Babies are… kind of a lot, Jaskier realizes.</p><p>This is not to say he didn’t know raising a child was a challenge. He very distinctly remembers all of his mother’s snide remarks about how much she did for him and while she really has only herself and possibly his father to blame, Jaskier knows he was a handful. Still, there is a difference between knowing something to be true and experiencing it first-hand.</p><p>He remembers something Geralt once said to him, in a tone that suggested it was logic passed down from someone else, how you can never truly be prepared for what life throws at you.</p><p>Jaskier was not prepared for Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon.</p><p>She wakes up at 5 o’ clock sharp, as promised, which means if Jaskier wants time to wake up before he has to change diapers, he has to get up with Geralt at 4:30am. Geralt doesn’t seem to accept it as fact that this is an ungodly time to rise and should be illegal, but he does make coffee so Jaskier often forgives him.</p><p>It’s strange, caring for a child. He has nieces and nephews, likes playing with them when he visits his sister or on the rare occasion he’s invited to a family gathering, but he’s never been in charge of them. At first, it doesn’t sink; he’s so caught up in the moment to moment responsibilities that he doesn’t have time to stop and look at the bigger picture.</p><p>Then one day, he’s rocking her to sleep. It’s quiet in the house and the sun comes through the curtains just enough for him to watch her slumber peacefully. She’s just <em> so cute </em> and so <em> fat. </em>God, he loves her.</p><p>The realization that she’s a living, breathing human being - as much of a person as he - blindsides him. He has to quickly put Ciri in her crib before he wakes her with his freaking.</p><p>Geralt freezes in taking his boots off in the entryway when he sees Jaskier’s spooked expression. “What’s wrong?”</p><p>“I just realized that I am caring for an entire person and I think I should probably sit down.” He does, heavily, on the sofa and Geralt hums before joining him. Jaskier wrinkles his nose at the shoulder pressed against his (exterminator work is <em> gross </em>) but leans into Geralt all the same. No point in turning down a rare show of affection when Ciri’s already ruined his shirt.</p><p>“Did you already have your big freak out and I just missed it? Is that why you’re being so blase about this? Because that is totally unfair.”</p><p>Geralt shrugs. “There’s a constant underlying panic,” he says and all of Jaskier’s functions, higher and lesser, halt.</p><p>Ladies and gentlemen, Geralt Eric Rivia: anxiety incarnate.</p><p>“Hhhhooooww have you survived the last two weeks?” Jaskier asks, mouth agape. He’s barely dealt with the last two minutes.</p><p>Geralt shrugs and grunts unhelpfully.</p><p>“Yes, very enlightening, thank you.” Well, at least his own panic has subsided a bit. Okay more than a bit. He feels that underlying panic now too but mostly he’s just tired. “It’s just- I’ve never been responsible for something so big, so important as this before.” He’s been responsible for a life before, of course, but he is considerably less concerned with his own well-being than Ciri’s.</p><p>Geralt sighs, long and low, next to him. “Me neither.”</p><p>Silence stretches between them, neither of them knowing exactly what to say.</p><p>“Well,” Jaskier says at last. “Good thing we’ve got each other then. Two heads and all, eh? Or well, three heads once Yennefer gets home. Though I can’t imagine she’s going to be any better at this than we are what with-”</p><p>Beside him, Geralt has frozen in what Jaskier has come to know over the years as Yennefer-induced-fear. </p><p>“Geralt,” Jaskier says slowly. “You did remember to tell her about Ciri, right?” Geralt makes no sound and carefully does not meet his eyes. “Geralt…”</p><p>Suddenly, quick as light, Geralt is up, dashing down the hall and closing the door to his- ahem, <em> their </em> bedroom. Half a second later he hears the lock click and his mouth falls open in shock. </p><p>“<em> Rude, </em> ” Jaskier says, indignant. If Ciri weren’t sleeping he would have shouted it. “Well, at least it’s not <em> my </em> fault Yennefer’s angry. For once.” Not that she’s likely to care. She tends to treat them like a matched set which is <em> very </em>funny when Geralt gets in trouble on his behalf and significantly less funny when it’s the other way around. Especially considering Geralt tends to fuck up in grander ways to make up for the low frequency.</p><p>“Fuck.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Has it been four months since I posted? Yes. Has quarantine kicked my ass? Also yes. Is school starting up soon? Indeed it is. Will I manage to keep writing this? I don't know, Alice. I just don't know.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Who knows how often this will be updated. I have nothing planned past chapter three right now so we'll see, I guess. Please let me know if you like it, otherwise, it will die under the bed with the dust bunnies.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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